


Light

by BitterlySpiteful



Category: OneShot (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Selfishness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterlySpiteful/pseuds/BitterlySpiteful
Summary: You are a selfish god.





	1. Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own take of the god of Oneshot (aka you?)  
> I haven't memorized the dialogue, or the actual gameplay, so it's just a slight au with maybe a few things changed? not sure. anyway. enjoy.

You are a selfish god.

You know this.

The world you watch over does not.

The Spirit also knows this. It has for a long, long time.

Niko doesn't realize this at first.

Sometimes, as you are passing by with Niko, you hear its static coming through speakers or lightbulbs or wires. It grumbles at you, it blames you, it hates you.

You smother it with your presence and the Spirit squirms away, like some worm pretending to be a snake.

Niko sometimes asks you questions. About you. About your home, or if you even go back to one at the end of the day. You can’t answer that, directly, for you do not _have_ one. But Niko is just a child, and you don’t have the heart to tell them that you are so, so lonely sometimes.

_(Because the world is Dark and you are Cold and Niko is the first person to speak to you in such a very, very long time.)_

So you give half-truths and vague answers. And Niko chatters on about their Mama and her pancakes. You wonder what pancakes taste like. If they are as good as your little Messiah says they are.

You will have to just believe them.

You travel with them through the city, and ignore the Spirit of the World you watch over. It is a troubled thing, one that you do not like. One you do not want.

 _“Not always the case,”_ it hisses, a screen flashing its bold words. You snap at the computer, and Niko looks up from their book when it flashes, then turns black.

“What was that?” they ask, and you murmur something. They accept your answer and return to reading. “These clovers are sturdy,” they comment. It takes you a moment to realize they are talking about the book they’re reading.

 **Yes,** you say. **They are meant to be.**

“Did you make them?”

Their question unsettles you, so you fall silent. After a moment, they seem to sense your shivering and silence, and they shrug a shoulder. And they change the subject.

_(You remember crafting the little clovers, growing them and shining the Sun on them. You remember how you had been so proud, so exhilarated. You had moved on from clovers, to moss, to trees, to people. The exhilaration died with each new creation, until you were bored and cold and in the dark.)_

While Niko rambles on about something or other, you split your attention and whistle for the Spirit.

It slinks back to the computer, screen flickering and dim. It does not like you, not anymore.

 **Child,** you say towards it. **I cannot tell them.**

The Spirit is silent. The screen flickers. Finally, with a hiss of static that may have been a sigh, it says, _“Then don’t.”_

As was noted before, you are a selfish god.

 

Though you cannot help but tell Niko, later, just before the elevator doors open.

They fall silent. Their small hands tighten on the Sun. Your presence billows out, so concerned about your precious Sun.

“So I won’t... ever go home?”

Niko’s voice is small and your concern for the Sun dims, and is directed towards the child.

 **I am sorry,** you murmur. Your Messiah makes a noise in the back of their throat, then coughs into their hand. You know they are covering up their sobs; you press closer in comfort, though they cannot feel you. **I am.**

They do not respond to you.

 

 

You are a selfish god. 

Because when Niko asks, you tell them to save your World.

Distantly, you feel the Spirit howl in anguish. It does not want this.

But you do not care.

Niko glances up, as if to look at you. Their eyes are wide and mirror the glow of the Sun clutched in their hands. “Alright,” they whimper.

But they know. They know that you care more about your World, than a small little kitten that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Niko slots the Sun into the hole and the little _chink_ it makes floods you with warmth. You grasp at the heat, so deprived of the light. You too have lived in the Darkness, just as your World has. You had suffered with it.

The light expands and washes out, and away, and the Spirit is silent.

Niko stares at the Sun, squinting against the light, but says nothing. Their eyes are not glowing any longer.

You are a selfish god.

Because you do not feel bad for the child.

 


	2. Selfless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a selfless god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: implied suicidal thoughts, death
> 
> Shatter the Sun ending

You are a selfless god.

As so everyone believes.

You are a lonely and cold and dying god.

Niko worries for you. You can sense it, when you tell them that you have no home.

“... What about a family?”

The question makes you uncomfortable and you fall silent. Niko pauses, then kicks at a pebble on the ground. “Well,” they begin, then hesitate. You’re curious, so you say, **Well?**

“... I could be your family. For the time being, I mean.” They look up, as if to share a look with you. “If you want.”

You’re speechless, for a moment. Niko bristles, but is then comforted when you murmur, **I would like that.**

 

The Spirit knows you are weary.

It is, as well. Together, you are worn and tired and frozen.

 _“Have you told them?”_ It asks, and it heaves a gush of static in place of a sigh.

You float over Niko as they sleep. You ignore the lamp flickering morse code in the corner.

Finally, when the insistent flickering annoys you enough, you growl, **No.**

_“Are you going to?”_

**They should know.**

The Spirit hesitates, for some reason. Then, the lamp blares brightly with its presence and you finally look to it. **What?**

_“Why are you giving up? We have been waging war against each other for so long... But now-”_

**I am tired, Child,** you say, **I am old.**

 _“... It will be relief,”_ the Spirit flickers the lamp.

Suddenly, Niko stirs. You shoo the Spirit away, and move to your Messiah. **Niko.**

They jolt awake, glowing eyes wide. They look around wildly for a second, and grasp at the Sun next to them. For some reason, you don’t mind how tight they’re holding the bulb. You press at Niko.

“Did you see my dream?” Niko whispers. It had been a nightmare, not a dream.

And you had. You are a god, after all. One among many. **Yes. Are you okay?**

Niko is silent for a moment. You croon at them when you see tears welling in their eyes. “What happens if I don’t return the Sun?” they ask, voice quivering.

 **... My World and I will die.** You have to tell the truth. Niko gasps and looks up. “You, too?”

**Yes, Niko. I woke up in this world a very, very long time ago. Without it, I will return to nothing. I will die.**

This only serves to make them cry harder. They’re sobbing now, and your heart aches.  _(You’re not sure if gods have hearts.)_   **Shh, child. My Messiah, you will do well.**

“I don’t want you to die,” Niko blubbers. They clutch at the Sun as if it was _their_ lifeline.

 **I won’t,** you say, even as your stomach sinks at the making of a promise.

“Really?” Niko rubs their face with the baggy sleeve of their jacket. “You promise?”

You do not respond. Niko slips out of bed and continues on their journey.

 

 _“You are running out of time.”_ Niko is not paying attention to the computer screen, but you are. You feel the Spirit squirm, upset. You hush it and turn to Niko.

“So did you make the entire world?” they ask you, ever-curious. Perhaps they are a kitten, after all.

**I created it, and it created me. There is no telling which of us came first.**

“That... doesn’t make much sense,” Niko admits, eyes casting to the side.

You chuckle. **I suppose it doesn’t. I made everything in this world, for there were no plants or rocks or animals to begin with. I made the space outside of the atmosphere. I made the Sun. I made the stars.**

“... But who made you?”

**Perhaps it was the world. I will never know. I am content with not knowing.**

For some reason, that sentence sounded... final.

Niko ponders your existence as you two make your way to the elevator. They pause at the base of it, looking down through the wire mesh of the bridge. For a moment, they look as if they are about to say something.

But they don’t, and the press the ‘DOWN’ button.

The elevator ride is quiet.

You know what to do.

**Niko.**

“Yeah?” Wide glowing eyes. A small smile. Warmth. Family.

**I need to tell you something.**

“What is it?” The dark and cold. Eating away at you, baleful and lonely.

**.... We cannot save both.**

“.... What?”

**The world, and you.**

Niko goes silent for a heartbeat, then shakes their head, eyes frightened. “What does that mean?”

 **To send you home, my Niko, you must break the lightbulb.** Not the Sun. Just a lightbulb. Just the last thing tying you and your World to life.

But it is no longer anything to you.

“What?” Niko exclaims, and they shift their weight to the side. They stare at where they think you might be. “But won’t that... Won’t that kill you?” Their question is whispered.

A child should not be responsible for killing a god. For killing their friend.

**... Yes.**

Three beats, then Niko says, “What happens to me if we save the world?”

You answer them truthfully, **I am not sure, kitten.**

Their eyes go slit-like. “You don’t?”

 **I am sorry,** you say.

The elevator doors open.

 

You are a selfless god.

It wrenches your heart _(Do you have one?)_ when Niko cries. They clutch at the lightbulb and kneel at the pedestal and they ask you what to do.

The Spirit is there. You can feel it nearby, fuzzy and blurry at the edge of your awareness. It presses at you, but you ignore it.

 **Niko,** you murmur.

They look up, tears bubbling from their eyes. Those eyes are not glowing. They are dull. “I can’t kill you. I can’t kill this world. I can’t, I-”

 **Niko,** you say again, and billow our presence to surround them. **This world has been dying for a long time. It is tired, and so am I. We have seen much, we have lived full lives.**

“But- Everyone-”

 **My Messiah,** you hush, and when you press at the lightbulb it flickers. They looked down at it with wide eyes. **Your Mama would miss you.**

That is what does it.

Niko stands. They look up. For a second, they seem to _see_ you. You smile, and those eyes glow again.

When they shatter the bulb, it is not painful for you.

Distantly, you hear the Spirit laugh in relief. _“Oh, thank god. Thank you. Thank you.”_

That is the last you hear from it.

And all of a sudden, you feel something in you collapse. Perhaps it is your heart. If you even have one.

The world... just blinks away. It is gone. Just like that. No explosion, no drama. Just the sudden Nothingness.

You crumple and wait for your turn.

 

Niko picks themself off the floor and glances around. “Hello? Are you there?”

You are. Surprisingly.

The world is gone and you are Nothing. You are neither cold nor hot, and you are floating and weightless, but gravity pins you to the ground. You open your mouth to speak.

**....Th-thank you... Niko.**

Niko turns in a circle. They do not hear you anymore. They stop, suddenly, and exclaim, “Oh! A light.”

Distantly, a voice called out from the warmth of the light. Niko gasps and races forward. “Mama! She’s calling for me!”

When they move, they pass through you. Perhaps they sensed that you are there, because Niko stops and looks around for one last time. “I guess... I guess this is goodbye.”

 **My little Messiah,** you rumble, but they don’t hear you. The hairs on their head move, though. They know you are talking. Niko reaches out, as if to pet you, comfort you, tell you it’s alright.

But they take their hand back and say, “I won’t ever forget you, okay? I’m... I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.”

**Go to your mama, kitten.**

They smile softly, but there are tears in their eyes.

When they turn and run, you finally lose consciousness.

 

You are a selfless god.

Niko knows this.

And that thought is enough to put your mind at peace as you slip away.


	3. the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world starts with a sigh, and you begin as a thought

Everything starts as Nothing.

 

You don't remember not existing, but you know it had to have been reality at some point. You blink awake and you exist. You know nothing other than that you did not exist a moment ago,  _nothing_ existed a moment ago. But now you are here, and there is a round light in front of you.

The world starts with a sigh, and with a press at the Sun.

It doesn’t hurt you to look at it. You can see the defined edge of the sun, and you can then step back and see how bright the light is, bright enough to start life and bright enough to end it.

Your presence billows out, blanketing across the Existence, yet you find nothing else. If you stray too far from the Sun, it grows dark, and, so you quickly draw yourself back to the sun.

 

For a long, long time, that is all you do. Hover around the sun,v stay near its warmth. Let it strengthen you, let it nurture you.

Eventually, you drop away, and then flatten at a reasonable distance, and _shove_ -

Lava tumbles out from your existence, burbling and vicious, and it’s then smoothed over with land, with water, and the light far above shines down on the barren plain.

You twist, churning, and make the first clover.

It stays directly beneath the sun, on a small formation of land among the magma, and it will remain there for as long as you let it.

The clover glows black, like a hole cut from space, seeming to suck in light yet at the same time release it.

You move on.

 

The world flourishes beneath your touch, growing and blooming. Its plantlife that first thrives, and then animals. You stitch sinew and bone and blood together and they stumble about, glowing and chattering amongst themselves. They eat clover at first, then they eat smaller animals, then they grow farms and herds and then they build and a civilization grows before your eyes.

You float about, coiled around the Tower of the Sun, watching, watching.

It’s when they first make artificial light, does the Entity finally speak to you.

 

While you float above it all, a separate being, a watcher, a caretaker, the Spirit is made from the blood and dirt of your World. It hisses, crackles, and says, _“I am cold.”_

 **Come to the Sun,** you say, but you draw yourself closer to the bulb, closer to the most important thing you have ever known.

There is silence. It could have lasted for years, or for seconds. You exist outside of time. You cannot tell.

Then, finally, _“What are you?”_

When the Spirit speaks, you can pinpoint it, hovering just below the surface of the lava, right at the base of your tower. The clover growing there does not get any light, not anymore, but it does not need it. So long as you are alive, it will remain that way.

 **I am God,** you say, so sure of yourself, but falter when the Thing barks a crackling laugh. The lamps flicker unnaturally and you coil yourself about the Sun, bringing an early nighttime.

 **And you?** You do not know what this thing is, but you _hate_ it. You have never hated anything before.

 _“I am...”_ It pauses, thinking, then huffs static and leaves before it finishes its answer. Now that you know what it feels like, you can sense it slinking across the world, like a worm, like a snake.

 

You drop yourself off the Tower and follow, cautiously, concerned.

The Spirit knows you are there, but it says nothing. It doesn’t seem to do anything, yet you are not sure.

And then, like that, clovers turn blood-red, flowers fill with static instead of pollen, and someone collapses. You surge forward and slam into the Entity, howling, and claw at it until it squirms away.

You go to tend to your world, and you raise the person back to their feet, and you drain the blood from the clovers and the static from the flowers.

 

 _“I am just changing how I want to be,”_ the Thing defends, gurgling in place of firelight. You growl and press at it and make it wriggle away again.

 **You are hurting my World,** you snarl, chasing it, and you run it out to where the Sun cannot reach. In the darkness, you think you see a shape, moving and lurching. You shy away because you are so, so scared of the Nothingness. You remember how it had been, just you and the Sun, and you do not want the world to ever be dark.

 _“It is not_ **_your_ ** _world, and it has never been. I am trapped, I_ **_am_ ** _it, but you hold such a grip on me and it that it hurts so, so much. You are_ **_killing_ ** _us.”_

You shriek, and shove the Spirit fully into the dark, and you chase it further and further. Finally, when you are sure it will not return, and you cannot stand the Cold and Dark any longer, you flee back to the Sun. Coiling yourself about it, you let it warm you, let it breathe life back towards you.

The Sun is the single most important thing to the World, to You. Without it, you are nothing.

 

So, one day, it blinks out.

You hadn’t been near it. But the sudden wash of darkness, the sudden spike of cold, oh _god_ is it cold, and you turn and race to it.

The Sun is just dead. You can see the bulb, see the glass, and you press at it. There is no semblance of warmth, just a cold shell, and you wail and twist in grief and terror. The World trembles with you, shrouded in darkness, and you do not know what to do.

Distantly, you think you hear the Spirit laughing.

You abandon the dead sun and hurry around the world, shoving bioluminesce into shrimp, into the water, into plants. For a while, things seem okay. Your people are terrified, but they make do.

 

You try to help them. You try to press at the bulb, try to get the sun to glow again. Nothing is working, and you are scared and tired, and you realize how cold it is.

The sun stays dead. You grow slow, and tired, and weak.

The World falls into disrepair, dying as you do.

 

And you don’t know what to do.


	4. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there cannot be action without repercussion.

Niko’s mom does not let them out of her sight for weeks. She keeps saying things like, “You can't run off on me like that again.”

“What happened?”

“Did someone take you?”

“You can talk to me, Niko.”

“I was so scared.”

And for the first week after their return, they stay mostly outside. It's summertime and incredibly hot. They sit out with swim trunks at the creek and tilt their head upwards, facing the sun.

They sleep with all their lights on, buried beneath five blankets, clutching their stuffed toy to their chest, and trying not to think of how hot the Sun was against the pads of their hands.

Their mom makes their favorite food. She babies them, brushes their hair and picks out their clothes for the day, and cooks pancakes and tells them, at least thirty times a day, sincerely, “I love you.”

A cop comes by their house on the fourteenth day and Niko is sat at the table and asked questions that they don't know how to answer.

“Where were you?”

With a dying friend, in a cold world. “I don't know.”

“Did someone take you? Lead you anywhere?”

Clutched at a last hope, hands singed from holding life and light. (They still hurt, tinged pink and burnt from the Sun. Blistered. Aching.) “No, I... I don't- I don't think so.”

“Where you with anyone?”

An old god. ( **One among many,** it had once said to him, **I do not... remember them, but I know there are others such as I. I know it**.) “Yeah.”

“Do you know what they look like? Any special features. Scars, tattoos, piercings...?”

A disembodied voice, buzzing around like birds in their head. They clench their eyes shut because they are a prophet, but mortals aren't supposed to hear gods, and it _hurt._ “No, I- I didn't see them.”

“You were blindfolded?”

“No! No, I wasn't... I wasn't kidnapped.”

They don't know how to explain what happened. Eventually the policewoman gives up and she says to their mom, “I’ll be back later, Miss. Try and see if you can talk to them?”

“They don't seem to want to,” they hear their mom whisper. The pain in her voice makes them feel horrible.

So two nights later they sit her down on the couch and they say, “Mom, if you had to choose to save a lot of people, or yourself, what would you do?”

She sits in silence for a long time before whispering, “Why do you ask, my Niko?”

She looks at them and they know she sees haunted eyes. At that moment, they realize that she knows they weren't kidnapped. They were somewhere Other.

“Mama, I did a horrible thing.” And they break like a dam. Tears come forth and they lunge into a hug, sobbing horribly into her shoulder. She rubs their back and presses her lips to the top of their head and say, “It's okay, Niko. It's okay. You're safe. We're okay.”

“Mo-ho-hoom,” Niko cries, clutching at her shirt. “I don't- I k-k-killed them- I-”

It took so long for this to come out, for them to realize _what exactly they did._

They ended lives. They destroyed an entire world. Those people had families, had hopes, had dreams and wants and emotions and memories.

And Niko-

Niko just murdered them all.

They cry and sob into their mom’s shoulder, eventually dry-heaving, hacking from the grief clogging their throat and ribs. Their mom tries her best, she does, and she keeps trying to reassure them, but-

“Niko, you didn't- _kill_ anyone. Niko, honey, look at me, it's- you're okay. You're okay. You didn't-”

“I woke up in the dark,” they suddenly whisper, slumping, nearly lifeless against her. She runs her comfortably sharp nails through their fur, tugging at knots that they’ve let tangle. “It was cold, and... And I found the sun.”

“The sun? Niko, was this a dream? A nightmare?”

They hesitate.

Was it?

_Was it?_

They don't know.

They don't _know_.

After a long moment, Niko lets out a horrible, shuddering breath, and says, “Yeah. It was a nightmare.”

 

The creek sluggishly flows past them, parting around their feet, unhappy at being interrupted. Tiny minnows swim at the shore, darting back and forth, following some pattern unknown to them.

Niko stares down at their toes, stares at the rocks underwater. They reach down and scoop out a relatively flat one. After a second, they fling it, and it skips three times before disappearing into deeper waters.

**Niko.**

They jolt, scrambling backwards with a yelp and falling into the water. They think they hear some sort of tittering laughter.

**Oh, Niko.**

“Wh- Are you- Are you there?” For a brief second, Niko feels hope clambering its way into their heart.

There is silence.

Niko slowly wilts, and with a huff they slap the water.

Then, **No, I am... not _that_ one.**

Their eyes widen and they jerk upright, looking towards the sky. (Towards the Sun.)

A headache is starting to form between their ears and near their temples. They feel somewhat hot, despite the  creek keeping them cool. “Who... are you?”

Silence. They keep glancing around, trying to pinpoint where-

 **I am not a God that you know of,** it says eventually, hesitantly. **I am... I am very young, as your world has only been around for a small while.**

“Young...? Then.. do you know what happened?”

The god laughs, outright and actually amused. It startles them; they are used to the quiet, the reservation, the chill of the Other one.

**Yes, most of us do. I- well, I am fairly certain the others do. I cannot tell for sure, you see. But whenever a world dies, we... we can usually tell.**

“Oh,” Niko whispers, and shrinks in on themself. The water grows slightly warmer around them, glittering like sequins. They glance up, but the sun seems much brighter than it usually is. They look down quickly, squinting.

 **But you are still a Messiah,** it says at length, **Though you are not** **_mine._ **

They shiver. They aren't sure they like how it had said that. “I'm... Then why can I hear you?”

 **Because I** **_want_ ** **you to hear me, Niko. Messiahs are special, mine or not. And... it is lonely, being such as I exist.**

 **(This world has been dying for a long time,** the god sighs, and Niko can practically feel its trembling. **It is tired, as am I. Tired and... lonely.)**

Niko says, “Oh,” and holds his knees in a loose hug. They sit in silence, ears flattened at the birds clapping about behind his forehead. The god, or whatever it is, is silent.

Then it says, **Niko... For what it is worth, I do think you did the right thing. If a god is that old and cannot take care of their world like that, then... Well, they had it coming.**

Niko doesn't say anything. They look to the shore of the creek, eyes tracing the few trees clinging to the cliff faces. After a moment, they glance towards the open field on the other side.

The god says, **Isn't my World beautiful?**

“Yeah,” they say, “It is.”

**It is mine. And nobody else’s.**

(The computer screen flashing warnings and messages. The God growling and smothering the Spirit down.)

**It is mine.**

Niko feels somewhat sick to their stomach. They reach down and grab a perfectly flat, perfectly circular rock. It skips thirteen times when they toss it, before slapping into a tree root and sinking.

 

The police don't come back. Their mom stops asking questions.

Things return to normal.

They keep finding perfect rocks at the creek. Their mom makes perfect pancakes. The flowers outside their window bloom and wilt and bloom and wilt and bloom and stay like that. The lawn grows to the perfect height, but does not go over. Their mom gets a promotion at her job. Their friends start visiting again, bringing gifts and wonderful stories.

And the God says, **You are** **_my_ ** **Messiah, little Niko.**

And their skin crawls. 

The sun shines hotter around their house. Niko is never cold, and never too uncomfortably warm.

 

So Niko pulls on their sweater at night and huddles in the closet and pretends not to hear when the God murmurs, **I can do all this for you, Niko. No other god can. No other god can make you happy.**

 “I don't need _you_ to be happy,” they whisper into the dark.

 (Families and friends and civilizations, gone with a sigh, gone with a whimper. That world was a twitching, injured thing that they just carelessly tossed over a cliff.)

 

And the god laughs.

And laughs.

And says, **Yes you do.**

 

Niko wakes into a dream one night. It is dark, and silent, and their head doesn’t hurt. They glance around, wandering. Their feet make soft sounds against the dark floor. They think it’s wood, but they aren’t sure.

Suddenly, a screen lights up to their right. They stop and stare. It’s just static for a long, long time. They think they’re looking at someone, or something.

Finally, a gush of static, the screen turns black, and words scrawl slowly across it in white. _Niko_.

“Who are you? Are you-?”

 _No._ A pause. The screen fades to static for a moment, as if whatever-it-is is thinking. The black comes back, and _I am... Something else, but I am not a god. I am not- I am not my God._

“Oh.” They’re saddened, they realize. After a long moment, they whisper, “How are you talking to me?”

_... I’m not sure. Existence is tricky like that, I guess. But I am... content. And rested. Thank you, Niko._

Niko stares. The glow of the screen illuminates a room with a bed, and shelves, and the wooden floorboards. The window is dark. It is cold.

_You did the right thing, Niko. Your friend is okay. I am okay. Everything is... as it should be._

They blink and wake to their ceiling.

A tittering laugh, and **Did you have a nice dream, my Messiah?**

Niko stares at the roof, then rolls and glares out the window and says, with a hiss, “I am not _your_ Messiah.”

They can feel the god recoil. After a moment, it says, **I see.**

There is silence.

 

But in the morning, they still have birds in their head and pain in their ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> killing an entire world has to be traumatic for a kid, you know?


End file.
